


Late

by chillychillywilly



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, M/M, Poor Bryce, brian is the bad guy, its probably sucky cuz im super tired while writing this, light mafia au, poor Cartoonz also, rip delirious lmao, wow i updated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10612773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillychillywilly/pseuds/chillychillywilly
Summary: He was late again.





	1. bryce

 

He was late again. Bryce sat still, staring quietly at the door. The couch underneath him was big and empty without Luke by his side, and it felt weird being alone for so long.

The television was still on, playing Luke's favorite movie. Bryce had thought a movie night would be a great way to start their weekend, but it seems that Luke had other plans. He shakes his head in disapproval, then lays down across the couch.

 

Bryce is tired. He's tired both physically and mentally. He's tired of many, many things.

 

Bryce was tired of his kittens tearing up furniture. Bryce was tired of the older cat always hiding socks and little pillows. Bryce was also tired of waiting. He was tired of waiting for  _ Luke _ .

 

If Bryce had a penny for every time he's been in this position before, waiting on the couch for Luke at three in the morning, Bryce would probably have enough money to buy himself a coffee or two. And he would drink both of those coffees, and then he would be able to stay awake long enough to see Luke come through the front door, whenever that might be.

 

This thought amuses him, and a weary smile forms on his face. The things he did for his husband were always so odd.

 

Then again… his life was never going to be normal, now was it? Bryce wasn't sure how normal life could be if you were dating a mob boss. Waiting for Luke like this was more normal than actually being able to hang out with him at this point. 

 

Bryce sighs in defeat, and finally stands up. Luke clearly wasn't coming home anytime soon. Maybe something went wrong with his plans tonight. Maybe he hit traffic, even. His point was that Luke wasn't home yet, and Bryce knew for a fact that if he spent even one more night on this old couch he would break his back.

 

So he stretches, yawns, and then makes his way to the empty bedroom.

 

The bed is big and comfortable, fluffy blankets thrown carelessly across it and big, soft pillows lay at the front of it. Bryce flops into it and wraps himself up, in an attempt to make this empty bed seem a little less lonely. Without Luke here to cuddle him, Bryce has to resort to bundling himself up like a child.

 

The warmth of the blankets overwhelm him quickly, and slowly, but surely, Bryce falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, it's to the sound of something breaking. Something large and wooden…

 

The door.

 

Someone just kicked a door in.

 

Bryce sits up, now at full attention. He stays still, perfectly still in bed and as quiet as he can. Was that one of Luke's men? It had to be. Who else would know of Luke's address? Even then, that was a stretch because Luke does everything he can to protect Bryce.

 

Luke promised he would protect him, at all costs.

 

That explains why, not even a few seconds later, there's the sound of someone yelling and a lot of fighting. Glass is breaking, things are being slammed around, and there's multiple men in the house.

 

Bryce doesn't know who. He's never gotten very involved with Luke's mafia. He doesn't know anyone in the mafia besides Luke, and his friend Jonathan. And if Luke is fighting against them, then they must be bad.

 

But that wasn't a good thing at all. How was he supposed to react? He couldn't just run out the front door, they would see him! Same went for the back door, too.

 

Bryce is beginning to panic. He gets out of bed, holding on tightly to a blanket as if it would protect him. He doesn't know what to do, or where to go, and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes.

 

In the midst of his panic, the door to the bedroom bursts open, and some man Bryce has never seen before is now standing before him.

 

“That's sweet, the big bad Mr. Cartoonz married some Disney Prince lookin’ guy,” he chuckles, an Irish accent clear in his voice. The man leans against the door, clearly aware of Bryce's fright. “What's your name, cutie? You look too good to have married a piece of shit like him.”

 

Bryce opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. He bites his lip, trying to gather some kind of courage. Blinking the tears away, Bryce stands up a little straighter, as if that would dispel any fears he had.

 

“Bryce,” he says in a surprisingly loud voice. “My… my name is Bryce.”

 

The man chuckles, then pulls something out of his jacket pocket. Bryce doesn't need to ask to know what it is. The soft, almost silent  _ click  _ echoes through the room, telling Bryce all he needs to know.

 

It's a gun. A simple, black handgun, and it's aimed directly at his head.

 

“It's a shame I have to do this, y’know? Such a waste of a pretty face,” the man coos.

 

Bryce's eyes widen, and he stumbles backwards, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, y-you… you can't! You can't, oh- oh no,” he chokes out. “P-please… please don't do this.”

 

The man shakes his head, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “But I do. Someone's gotta kick that asshole husband of yours down a few pegs. And what better way to do it than to kill of his  beloved  husband, hmm? Not that he cared for you that much, anyways.”

 

“W-what? What- what does that mean?” Bryce's voice is small and quiet, his body shrinking back against the wall as if he would manage to disappear and escape with his life.

 

“You're a sweet boy, you know that? So faithful and loyal to someone who was never even there for you. It's okay, though. You won't have to put up with it much longer,” the man cackles.  

 

Before Bryce can ask any more questions, or even think to plead for his life, the gun is raised and a bullet comes flying at his head.


	2. luke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to have Luke's side out like forever ago, but i only recently finished it whoops. its not as angsty as i planned and i apologise.

Luke loves Bryce. This is a given. 

Bryce was Luke's entire world, it seemed. He was the sun and the stars, he was the sky and all of space. He was the center of Luke's universe. 

Luke would do anything to keep Bryce safe. Bryce knew this. His men had all been ordered to keep Bryce safe should a situation ever arise. 

Today had started out like any other. They woke up besides each other, Bryce happily snuggled into Luke's chest for warmth. He remembers staring into big, curious blue eyes and laughing at how Bryce’s hair stuck out crazily. 

They had laughed, kissed, then went about their morning. Breakfast was peaceful, and they cleaned up together like they always did. Bryce would wash the dishes, Luke would put everything away, and they would both sweep and mop as needed. 

Luke lived a sweet, simple life outside the mafia. Nobody would ever suspect that Luke was part of such a horrible thing if they saw him like this. 

And in all honesty, Luke had never expected for someone to figure out his address. He had never expected any of this. 

It had started around three in the afternoon. Jonathan, his right hand man, calls him up saying something urgent has happened. Someone had come in to threaten Luke personally, but he hadn't been there. 

The rest of the gang had gotten fed up with Luke's men, apparently. There had been a fight, it had ended, and then some time went by. Then it occurs to Luke that something's not right. 

Their leader, a man they all simply knew as Terroriser, had spit at Luke and told him that they'll get back at Luke where it hurts most. 

He hadn't quite understood it at first. 

But now, as he rushes to his house, he knows exactly what it is. 

Jonathan had gone here, too. His car is parked outside, completely unharmed. But something seems off, so horribly off, that Luke feels the sudden urge to scream. 

He bolts into the house, completely forgetting to turn his car off. The door opens easily, and Luke's worries skyrocket.

Bryce never forgets to lock the door. 

The inside of his house is trashed completely. Furniture is thrown everywhere, glass shattered across the floor, and blood on random spots in the room. He pays no mind to the mess, or any other details. 

His mind is running as fast as his legs, a whirlwind of _Bryce Bryce Bryce._ Luke kicks the door to the bedroom down, gun already drawn. 

What he sees, though, makes him nearly collapse onto the floor. 

Bryce is there on the floor, dead as could be. A big, nasty bullet hole is in his forehead, blood all over his pretty face. 

Luke chokes on his tears as he drops to his knees besides Bryce, pulling his lover's head into his lap. 

“Bryce,” he chokes out. “Oh- oh god, Bryce, baby…” 

Luke runs a hand through Bryce's hair, pushing Bryce's blood-soaked hair back the best he can. Bryce's eyes are still open, though they're not the same as before. 

The same deep blue eyes he had gazed into this morning, so full of life, were now dull and cold, gazing blankly into space. Luke grasps at Bryce's hand in search of comfort, the tears now falling uncontrollably. 

Bryce's hand is also cold, skin growing paler by the second from the lack of blood. He holds onto it anyways. 

If you asked Luke how he felt, he wouldn't be able to respond. All Luke could think to do is sit and cry over Bryce's dead body. 

It felt like his whole world had been ripped to shreds in front of his very eyes. Everything he's loved and worked so hard to keep safe was gone in the blink of an eye. 

Bryce must've been so scared, he realizes. Did Bryce die instantly? Or was he left on the floor, bleeding out and wondering where Luke was at? Was Bryce aware of what was going on? 

Every question that pops into Luke's mind only makes him cry harder, anger beginning to finally set in. He tries to say something- anything, anything that might make him calm down. 

But all that comes out of his mouth is “Bryce,” and he's sobbing all over again. 

It stays like this for a while. He cries until there are no more tears left to cry with, until he feels like he's about to vomit and his eyes are dry. 

Luke stands up, looking down at Bryce's body one last time. Bryce McQuaid, the love of his life, was gone and died at the hands of some pretentious Irish asshole. 

And as much as Bryce had hated the idea of murder- sweet, sweet Bryce didn't see any point in it- Luke had every intent on getting revenge. 

He grabs his gun, then leans down and kisses Bryce one last time. The kiss is nothing like their others. It's cold and unforgiving, full of goodbyes and the start of vengeance. 

When Luke exits the bedroom, his head feels clear. Not a good kind of clear, though. It feels like he's cried himself to the point of feeling okay, and as he walks into the living room once more, he knows he should be far from okay. 

He's not sure how he missed it before, but Jonathan's body is there in a puddle of blood. Whether it's his blood or not is beyond Luke, but the other two bodies in the room seem to give some answers. 

He was too late. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, and such a harsh truth makes Luke want to punch the wall and set the house on fire.

But Bryce wouldn't want that. Bryce would want Luke to live his life the best he could, wouldn't he? 

Luke doesn't know. He would ask Bryce, but Bryce is gone, and it feels like it's his fault. It's his fault for being too late, isn't it? 

Then again… he was always late. What difference did this one make? 

He laughs bitterly, refusing to cry again. There was no way he was letting Terroriser get away with this. He may have gotten what he wanted from Luke, but that didn't mean the fight was over. 

He was gonna do this. For Bryce. And maybe, this time, he wouldn't be late.


End file.
